I am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise, <br />And the armor and the mask of these fall from me, after long. <br />I would go where the islands sleep, or where the sea-dawns rise, <br />And lose my bitter wisdom in the wisdom of a song. <br /> <br />There are magics in melodies, unknown of the sages; <br />The powers of purest wonder on secret wings go by. <br />Doubtless out of the silence of dumb preceding ages <br />Song woke the chaos-world—and light swept the sky. <br /> <br />All that we know is idle; idle is all we cherish; <br />Idle the will that takes loads that proclaim it strong. <br />For the knowledge, the strength, the burden all shall perish: <br />One thing only endures, one thing only—song.<br /><br />Arthur Davison Ficke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-am-weary-of-being-bitter/
